SuperLinLock
by Hailaye Flowers
Summary: rated T for swearing! Merlin and Sherlock are brothers. They decide to greet the people who moved into the flat below them, two blonde men- one from the army, one from a rich and famous family. When a werewolf attacks, the Winchesters investigate.
1. Chapter 1

"Sherlock!" Merlin yelled into the Holmes brothers' flat.

"Yes, I know, new people on the floor below. Both blondes, one's inheriting his father's company, the other just came back from either Iraq or Afghanistan." Sherlock answered before Merlin could say more.

"Stop showing off."

"I'm not. Showing off is for little four-year-olds whose parents only care if they're child prodigies."

"That would be you, except for the four year old part. Anyways, we're stopping by to say hello."

Sherlock sighed. Merlin Holmes- his brother, besides Mycroft. Merlin was so _normal_, so he always cared bout people. Not that Sherlock didn't care, but honestly, he'd rather stay in their flat and test how long eyeballs can stay in the microwave without exploding. But no- Merlin would literally drag Sherlock down the stairs (he'd only use the elevator if Sherlock was walking on his own) just to say hello to some new people.

Of course, Sherlock was mildly interested in one of the men. He was just coming back from the army, so maybe he could help with cases Sherlock got. Merlin was useless at it (He'd ended up getting kidnapped) and Sherlock was getting a little tired of doing it all on his own.

"John, your girlfriend just broke up with you!"

"What?"

"I just happened to look over and the message said '_Sorry, but I'm ending this-_'"

"Shut up! I can read it on my own."

Merlin had been about to knock on the door, but the yelling had made him pause. Now, he rapped four times on the gray door. A tall, blonde man opened the door.

"Hello! I'm Merlin Holmes; this is Sherlock, my brother. We noticed you moved in and thought we'd stop and say hello!" Merlin smiled up at the blonde, his blue eyes lighting up with friendliness.

"Oh- Come in. I'm Arthur Pendragon. That's John Watson- John, are you done reading that damn message already?"

"She said I was gay!"

"Yes, and she's probably right. Say hello to Merlin and Sherlock."

"Hello." The man- short, military cut hair, and apparently a sweater lover- glanced up briefly. A small smile, a wave, and he was back to his phone.

"John, for god's sake, put the phone down!"

"Yes! Sorry. Girlfriend just broke up with me." John sighed, putting the phone down.

"Girlfriend? You just got back form Afghanistan or Iraq and moved into a new flat. How do you have time for a girlfriend?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows. John stared. Merlin did a face-palm and groaned. Arthur just looked mildly surprised.

"How did you know about Afghanistan?"

"No, don't ask, _please_ don't ask…" Merlin groaned again. "Sherlock, don't you _dare_ start one of your rants."

"He asked me how I knew." Sherlock defended himself.

"Yes, but you can tell him some other time when I'm not here to listen to you show off!"

"I'm not a four-year-old, Merlin."

"Do you guys want tea while you argue?" Arthur asked, breaking the silence between the two brothers, who had reverted to a staring competition.

"Yes, tea would be lovely." Sherlock didn't bother to look at Arthur or apologize for arguing. Merlin would have, but his phone buzzed.

"Sorry, hang on…" Merlin stopped talking. The blood drained from his already pale face, making him look a lit like some sort of ghost. Wordlessly, he dropped his phone and practically kicked the door down trying to get out.

"What just happened?" John asked. Sherlock picked up the phone, read the message on it, and spoke up.

"Call the police."

"What?"

"Now!" Sherlock shoved the phone at John's face.

_Dad's got a rolling pin._ A new message read.

"What?"

"Freya, fifteen years old, drunk and abusive parents. _Call the police._" Sherlock ran out after Merlin, leaving Arthur and John.

"I'll call the police- you go help." John said, picking up his previously abandoned phone and beginning to dial.

Arthur raced down the hall after Sherlock, down a flight of stairs, then another. They reached the thirty-ninth floor of the building, and found the entrance to Freya's flat. The door was open, and there was loud shouting coming from inside.

Arthur pushed Sherlock out of the way and went inside.

Merlin was nowhere to be seen. Two adults- one a woman, with frizzy brown hair, the other a man with close-cropped black hair who needed a shave- were inside. The flat was messy- a broken vase here and there, lamps turned over, blankets and sheets on the floor, ripped up pillows, and so much more that Arthur didn't have time to take it all in.

"Freya! The hell are you, you stupid- Oi! Who the fuck 're you?" The man glared at Arthur.

"Arthur Pendragon. May I ask why you're yelling so loud I can hear you three floors up?"

"My bitch of a daughter isn' answerin' me. 'M trying to get her out here so I can give her a good beat-lecture." Arthur would've laughed at how ridiculously stupid the man was if it weren't for the fact that he had a rolling pin in his hands.

"Freya likes to misbehave." The woman said, with a smile so false that Arthur _did_ laugh.

"The fuck 're you laughing at?" The man glared again.

"Oh, nothing…" Arthur stopped smiling and kicked the man in his gut. In an instant, the woman was flying at him; clawing and screeching like some sort of bird.

Arthur's fighting instinct kicked in, and he sidestepped the woman, who promptly crashed into a kitchen counter and knocked herself out.

The man was back on his feet, and angry. He swung the rolling pin at Arthur's head, but it somehow missed. The man looked confused for a moment, and then fell over, unconscious. Arthur looked around. There was no one there- Sherlock must've run off to find Freya- so who had hit the man? It wasn't Arthur.

"Is he out?" Arthur jumped. Merlin was there, standing a few feet away.

"Where the hell did you come from?!" Merlin looked confused for a moment, then the look faded.

"Oh. I was invisible again, huh?"

"What?"

"I do that from time to time. I've got magic in me." Arthur nodded.

"Oh." Magic people did exist, but they were rare- like, one in ten thousand rare. On top of that, magic folk rarely told people of their powers for fear of persecution. Some people thought that magic was evil, and would hunt down anyone with magic and kill him or her.

"You're not going to go call a hunter, are you?" Merlin looked worried. Arthur shook his head.

"No, I'm not one of those people. My dad is, but we never saw eye to eye anyways." Merlin looked relieved.

"Good. I hate making people forget about me."

Sherlock wasted little time as soon as Arthur had the attention of the two drunkards. He knew Merlin was probably invisible somewhere. Freya would be hiding somewhere her parents couldn't reach- Freya was very skinny and small, so there were a lot more places she could fit that her parents couldn't. She would hide somewhere that she felt safe, or at least safer than the rest of the house. So, her room. Not under the bed, that would be to obvious. Not on the fire escape, because it would be much too difficult to run all the way down the stairs.

Sherlock opened the closet of Freya's room.

"Freya, it's Sherlock, Merlin's brother." Was all Sherlock had to say. A small, dark-haired twig of a girl burst out from behind a small corner the closet that was hidden behind clothes. The girl was sobbing, and Sherlock could see a fresh bruise appearing on her arm. Sherlock wasn't sure what to do, so he simply led Freya to the living room, where Merlin swooped down on her and started doing his weird mother hen thing, petting her hair and telling her it'd be okay. Within a few minutes, John arrived with Lestrade and his crew of policemen. Freya's parents were arrested, and Freya went with Merlin, Arthur, John and Sherlock down to the police station for questioning.

"Where am I going to go?" Freya asked no one in particular.

"Foster care." Was Sherlock's instant answer. "Or to any relatives, but seeing as-"

"Sherlock, shut it." Merlin commanded. For once, Sherlock listened. He was going to say _Seeing as you were living with alcoholic, abusive parents, I doubt you have any other relatives, so you'll probably be going into foster care to live with a couple who can't have children and will most likely treat you like a baby._

"Alright, you all can go. Freya, you're going to stay with Merlin and Sherlock until we can get your situation figured out." Lestrade commanded. Freya broke into a grin for the first time that evening.

"Great. Well, I'm going to get coffee, I'll see you all some other time." John stood up.

"No, stay." Sherlock was surprised that Freya actually spoke to someone besides herself. "Merlin's got coffee, right?"

"A-yup." Merlin nodded. "And sugar."

"All right, but I don't take sugar." John agreed.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello! Thanks for reading! And yes, this is going to end up as a bromance.

Thanks to those of you who left reviews and such :) I really appreciate it!

"Freya, what's-his-face is here!" Merlin yelled. For some reason, Lestrade had never found a place for Freya. As such, she was living with Merlin and Sherlock permanently. She'd been enrolled in school, got a boyfriend (some guy named Jason) and was much happier. All her old bruises were gone, though a few scars remained. The only remaining issue was that Freya would occasionally have panic attacks, thinking that her parents were still there with the rolling pin. Freya was terrified of rolling pins.

"I'll be there in a second!" Freya darted out of her room in a pretty lavender dress, her hair falling in natural waves. Jason smiled, offering his arm, and the two left for prom together.

"Merlin, did I just see Freya going to prom?" Arthur asked, appearing in the doorway.

"Yes." Merlin answered. "But I'm worried. What if-"

"Merlin, stop being a mother. She's fifteen, she's got pepper spray on her, she'll be fine."

"Yes, but-"

"No buts! You are coming with me!" Arthur promptly grabbed Merlin by the hand and dragged him out of his flat, Merlin protesting the whole way.

"… What did I just see?" John poked his head inside the flat.

"Freya's going to prom." Sherlock answered.

"Okay…" John closed the door behind him and sat down in an armchair. He didn't know what to say- he never did around Sherlock. It was like whatever he said made him look stupider and stupider, and John normally wouldn't care, but with Sherlock it seemed to matter. Maybe it was because Sherlock was a genius. Maybe it was because Sherlock noticed everything, even tiny little things that didn't seem to matter. Like that John forgot to wash his favourite sweater, or that he kept checking his phone, half-expecting someone to have actually texted him.

"Phone." Sherlock held out his hand.

"… What?"

"Give me your phone." John handed Sherlock the phone. The tall man typed a quick message, sent it, and set the phone down. It buzzed a moment later. Sherlock picked it up, replied, then stood up and handed John the phone.

"Come on, Lestrade needs us."

"Wh-What?"

"You heard me."

"Us?"

"Yes, _us_, as in both you and me, working together. You're an army doctor, so you should be helpful with the autopsy." John stood up and followed Sherlock, hoping he wasn't blushing form embarrassment.

"… Heart's gone, too, so we'll be needing the silver."

"Damn! I hate hunting overgrown dogs."

"Dean!"

"Whoops. Sorry. I keep forgetting that they're not all overgrown dogs." Two other men were in the morgue when Sherlock and John entered. They had American accents, and they were inspecting the same body that Sherlock and John had come in to see.

"Oh, hey, we've got company, Sammy." The shorter man, who had a tan and faint freckles, clear blue eyes, and was apparently named Dean, nodded at Sherlock and John. The taller one, Sammy, looked up, then back down at the body.

"What sort of overgrown dogs were you talking about?" John asked.

"Oh, we've encountered some wild dogs who attacked people and ate their hearts. Pretty nasty, but they got killed in the end. Problem solved." Dean smiled.

"You think there are more of these dogs then?"

"Most likely. Well, you see what you can make of him." Dean patted the dead body with his gloved hand, then him and Sammy left.

"Odd…" Sherlock was already looking the body over.

"What?"

"This man wasn't mutilated like any normal dog would do. Whatever did it wanted the heart specifically." Sherlock responded.

"So… not a dog, then?"

"No, these are wolf claw marks."

"Huh. Sounds a little like a werewolf. And those guys did mention silver…"

"What's silver got to do with it?" Sherlock asked.

"Silver bullets kill werewolves. They're just old myths though-"

"We need to find those two."

"So, feeling any less worried about Freya now?" Arthur asked after the movie. It was about 10 pm, and the streets were empty. The only lights were coming from flickering lights.

"Yes, but tell me why we chose to get home by the creepy back alleys?" Merlin asked, shivering.

"I hate crowded streets." Arthur answered. He paused, hearing a noise.

"D-Did you hear that?" Merlin scooted a little closer to Arthur. "That growling?"

"Yes." Arthur answered, doing a slow 360 to see if there was anyone near them. There was no one.

"Well, let's hurry. I feel like we're going to get attacked."

"Hey, I know how to fight. We'll be fine." Arthur shrugged. The pair made it a few more streets before Merlin's fears were confirmed. A man tackled Merlin to the ground, shoving Arthur aside with a growl. The blonde hit his head against a wall and fell to the ground, groaning. Merlin was panicking. The man seemed to be trying to _bite_ him, like some crazy werewolf who hadn't transformed. But his nails were sharp, cutting through Merlin's leather jacket with ease. The only reason Merlin wasn't bitten or hurt was because of his magic, protecting him and making him untouchable.

"_Dammit!_" A gunshot rang out. The man cried out, jumping off Merlin in pain. The bullet must've just grazed him, not going straight through, because the man ran off, seemingly uninjured.

"Come on, come _on!"_ Someone- an American- pulled Merlin to his feet, dragging him down alleys. Merlin had the vague idea that someone else had Arthur, carrying the half-unconscious blonde.

The American ran with Merlin all the way to a motel, then shoved him, Arthur, and some other really tall guy inside and slammed the door. Grabbing a bag of salt, the American started lining the doors and windows with it.

"Did it bite you?" The tall guy- also American- asked Merlin.

"N-No- Is Arthur okay?"

"Merlin, I hit my head on a wall. Do you _think_ I'm okay?"

"Yes, but- Freya! Oh, no, she's probably locked out of the flat, Sherlock was planning to go down to the morgue for Lestrade, he got a new case- is there a phone?"

"Uh, yea, over there." The tall man pointed to a phone, and Merlin rushed over. He dialed Sherlock.

"Sherlock, come on…" The phone clicked to voice mail, and Merlin started talking. "Sherlock, you need to get back to the flat to let Freya in, I'm-" Merlin paused. "Where am I?" He asked.

"The London Sun Motel." The man who'd originally grabbed Merlin answered, setting his bag of salt down.

"I'm at the London Sun Motel and I think I'm going to be here a while, so get your butt back to the flat or so help me I will- I'll throw out all your eyeballs and thumbs, and I'll tell Molly not to let you in if you don't have a case from Lestrade!" Merlin hung up the phone.

"… Eyeballs and thumbs?" Arthur raised his eyebrows.

"What, haven't you seen out fridge?"

"Why the hell do you have eyeballs in your fridge?" The shorter American asked. Merlin shrugged.

"Sherlock likes to experiment. He gets them from Molly- she works at the morgue- and does tests. Usually involves a lot of exploding. So, why am I in a hotel room that's lined with salt?"

"Werewolf. Not good. Salt repels demons, werewolves, shifters… Everything, really."

"Okay then… So, I just got attacked by a werewolf, in the middle of London on a Saturday night… Who are you?"

"Dean. That's Sam." The tall man waved. "We're hunters." Merlin paled.

"You hunt… Magic people?"

"What? No, magic isn't real. We hunt demons, monsters, anything evil."

"What makes you think magic isn't real?" Arthur asked.

"Dude. It's all hoodoo. Charms, consulting demons or gods. No actual magic." Merlin snorted.

"Sure. Well, when can I leave? I'd like to get back to Freya and Sherlock. He'll probably want to-" The motel phone rang. Arthur, being closest, picked it up.

"Hello?... Oh. Merlin, it's for you."

"Merlin, it's Freya. I'm locked out of the flat."

"Sherlock isn't there?"

"John told me to call you at this number. Sherlock couldn't leave his case, and he took John with him."

"Damn… Okay, do you think you can jimmy the window? The alarm won't go off unless you smash the glass."

"No, I don't have my pocketknife on me."

"Does Jason have one?"

"Uh… Jason kind of left already. I told him to go home instead of waiting."

"Why?"

"I didn't want to make him wait until you or Sherlock got back. Where are you?"

"Got a little sidetracked. Look, just… Okay, go over to the fire escape. You there?"

"Yes."

"Put your hand on the door."

"Why?"

"Just do it, okay? Trust me."

"Okay, hand is on the door."

"Repeat after me- _Aergoth Manta Slinth._"

_"Aergoth Manta slinth."_

_"Talnah Patar."_

_"Talnah Patar."_

_"Ergo Confo Dunus."_

_"Ergo Confo Dunus_- Whoa!"

"The door opened?"

"Yes."

"Good. I'll be home in a while. Get yourself some food, and call Jason to tell him you're inside. Call John, too."

"Okay. And- Oh, ew!"

"What?"

"Head in the fridge! Oh, gross, her eyes are open- eurgh!"

"What- when did he get a head? And wouldn't the head go in the freezer?"

"No, the freezer's too crowded. Remember, I got ice cream?"

"Great. Well, stick with the pantry and the freezer, and don't look at the head. I'll tell Molly to stop letting him have the heads."

"Yea. Call you later."

"Mmkay. Bye."

"… Heads?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Sherlock put a head in the fridge. Normally he sticks to eyes or arms, but I guess he got a head while we were out."

"You let him keep heads in your fridge?" Sam look rather appalled.

"Not normally, no."

"Just a question, does your friend have any bones around the house?"

"Yea, he's got a skull on the fireplace. It's named Frank."

"Okay, creepy Satanist much?" Dean muttered.

"What? No! Sherlock solves mysteries. He tried to take me along once, but I got kidnapped, then almost murdered, and then the fireworks went off- well, long story short, I suck at solving mysteries."

"Oookay… What was that mumbo jumbo you were saying on the phone?"

"Nothing."

"How do we know that this werewolf didn't just run off?" Arthur asked quickly, covering for Merlin.

"That werewolf was hunting you specifically. It's been following you for a while."

"… How do you know that?"

"Because it told us."

"… I'm sorry, that just sounds like total bullshit." Arthur snorted.

"Okay, excuse me for getting cornered by the damn thing, but once you get monsters talking they don't stop!" Dean snorted back.

"Would you to shut up?" Merlin and Sam said at the same time. The motel phone rang again. Merlin picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Merlin?"

"Heya, John."

"We've got a problem." John's voice was oddly calm, alerting Merlin that _hell yes_ something was wrong. John was never that calm, unless he was asleep.

"What?"

"There's this-this man, with claws and- I don't know, but he wont' die when we shoot him, and we're stuck in the morgue with Molly and Lestrade. Sherlock said you could help."

"Son of a bitch!"

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing- Okay. I'll be there. Is there any salt in the room?"

"Uh- Molly! Any salt in here?" Merlin heard the young woman answer, though her words were too muffled for him to distinguish them. "No. No salt."

"Okay, just stay inside, I'll be there with help soon."

"Was that John?" Arthur started to ask.

"I found your damn werewolf." Merlin cut the blonde off, picking up Dean's abandoned salt bag and shoving the door to their motel room open.


End file.
